


An Elf to Emasculate

by gandalfthesassy



Series: Glanni and the MayhemTown Gang [1]
Category: Glanni Glæpur í Latibæ, LazyTown
Genre: Beating Up a Rapist, F/M, Gore, Hallucinations, Mentions of Rape, Or Is It?, Unrequited Love, hinted romance - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:44:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8876506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gandalfthesassy/pseuds/gandalfthesassy
Summary: A follow-up to "A Beast to Bait" by dirtgrvb. The MayhemTown Gang swoops in on Íþróttaálfurinn. Alternatively called "Guilty Boys Get Fucked Up." **There is no sexual assault or abuse contained in this chapter, but it is referenced heavily.**I got squicked really really badly by this fic that I thought wouldn't be bad and then it was. So this fic is a reaction to it. Not trying to start drama or call anyone out, but if you recommend a fic to someone, you better fucking tell them if it's got any trigger warnings in it because man, I was not in the right mind to actually look at the details. Fenya Fighter, Switchblade, and Theo Thief are my original characters (please do not write them without written permission). Íþróttaálfurinn, Glanni Glæpur, and the original MayhemTown Gang and LazyTown plays are copyright Magnús Scheving and LazyTown LLC.





	

**Author's Note:**

Three shadows danced across the wall of the abandoned pillow factory in MayhemTown. The first was round and rumbling, the second small and smelly, and the third slim and sly. The shadows belonged respectively to þjófur (Theo Thief), Skipta Blað (Switchblade), and Vigi Verndun (Fenya Fighter). Fenya, never one to make a scene, gestured for the other two to hush. They complied immediately. Switchblade’s hand darted into their pocket, ready at a moment’s notice. Theo silently cracked his knuckles and stretched his fingers. Fenya moved her purple beanie up so her pointed ear could catch every sound from around the corner.

For a moment, there was nothing to hear except someone panting, out of breath. Then then was something being dragged, a pause, then a voice that Fenya recognized.

“You are going to stay here. An anonymous tip will send the police your way and they are going to find you like this. Restrained, used. You look like a slut. Because that’s what you are.” Fenya knew exactly the kind of guy who used language like that. He had raped whomever he was whispering to. Her breathing grew funny as her stepfather’s face flashed in front of her. She breathed out quietly, brushing the image away, but the voice continued. “I used your mouth with no regard for you and yet you somehow managed to arouse yourself, thrusting your little dick at nothing like a bitch in heat.”

Who was this? She knew who this was, her skin was crawling already, and yet she couldn’t put her finger on who it was.

Theo put a hand on her arm, but she swatted him away, shaking her head. He whispered to her, “It’s Glanni. It’s our friend.”

Fenya shivered at the thought but shook her head. _There’s no way it could be him._ “It’s not his voice. Maybe he’s…” She trailed off, the thought too awful to say aloud.

“Maybe someone else will find you before the cops do and they will bring you to climax. Would you like that?”

 _There’s no cops in this town_ , Fenya thought to herself. The blood that coursed through her veins suddenly ran cold. Her elf ears began to glow red with anger, a harsh glow surrounding the tips of her ears. Try as she might, she couldn’t suppress it. She had to harm someone. It was going to be that fucker, that _dirty fucking rapist_ , that sack of shit wouldn’t leave the alley with his dignity nor his health. _In fact_ , Fenya considered, _he might just deserve the removal of his genitals._

Theo, hearing her thoughts, tensed. He glanced back at Switchblade. “Rapist ‘round the corner,” he whispered to them. Switchblade nodded, and the two of them produced a metallic net with a special enchantment to capture elves.

“You pissed yourself too, were you aware of that? Or did your little brain only comprehend something warm to pleasure yourself with? You are disgusting, Glanni Glæpur. You are rotten.”

It was exactly what she feared, and in that moment her head cleared. She had one goal: to destroy the fucker who’d done this, completely and utterly, and make him wish for death.

As if the name were a cue, Fenya hissed through clenched teeth: “Náðu honum!” Moments later, a pair of footsteps sounded, the noise bouncing off the alley walls in mocking triumph. Switchblade and Theo leapt from the darkness and engulfed the bastard, who let out a shriek of agony as the net’s metal threads dug into his skin and glowed dark red. He collapsed on the ground. Fenya shook her head. “Get him up,” she commanded, her voice now at full volume. They did so, and the figure’s head lolled as his body went limp in their arms.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” she demanded of the figure. When he brought his head up, her breath caught in her throat. “Íþróttaálfurinn. You’re fucking joking.”

“Fenya?” he recognized her. “I guess some people never really change.” She clamped her fingers around his throat and he gagged.

“You made a big mistake coming back to MayhemTown, you disgrace.” She squeezed a little tighter and stared him down. “I’ve got ears that are better than yours, and I heard everything. Well, not everything, but I certainly heard enough. You know what this makes you?” She paused for effect and released his throat. “Well? What does this make you?”

“It makes me even,” he spat at her, and she smacked him across the face so hard that he spat out blood. “He was a bitch anyway. He deserved what he got.”

“You’re one to talk. You came here, nasty and rude, and you told us that we had to change our sinful ways or else we’d all die! Well, guess what.” Her voice lowered and she leaned into him. “Not a single one of us has died, or even gotten hurt! And you know why? Because the MayhemTown Gang doesn’t fuck around. We are the law here. You go flying around in your little airship trying to save all these towns, but you’re never successful.”

“I helped LazyTown.”

“Is that what you call it? The one time you do some good, or so I’ve heard, you chase the do-badder to his turf and rape him! Now, I don’t know or care what Glanni did. But you had the nerve to call him a slut, when you were clearly the one who raped him. So I stopped giving a shit why you’d done what you did.” She stood up, shoulders back, her ears burning in righteous rage. She stared down at Íþró. “I know a criminal when I see one. And you’re one that’s gone unpunished. Until this moment.” With a glance at Theo, she took a step back. “Hey Switchblade, why don’t you show our guest why you’re called that?” With one deft, trained hand, Switchblade produced their favorite knife and popped it open. “You see, Íþró, we have a different sort of law in MayhemTown, one that works better than that shitty police station you made us build ourselves, but never worked on yourself. You wanna talk about lazy? You put all of us under your elven mind control, even me, your own kind, and you waltzed away to take care of Latibaer by turning them into your little slaves. Well, it ends here. Theo, can you see what Glanni saw?”

Theo nodded. “It just happened. I can feel it floating through the air.” Íþró suddenly struggled, but the net dug harder into his skin and he cried out, tears pooling in his eyes.

She smiled sickly, taking off her beanie. She glanced at Theo, who read her mind and unclamped the male elf’s jaw. Fenya shoved and stuffed her beanie into his mouth, although he tried in vain to bite her she moved too quickly for him to escape. “Íþró’s a big baby who’s all compassionate and shit. Well, how’s this for compassion.” On cue, Theo bumped his forehead to the top of the captive’s head.

For a moment, Íþró didn’t react. He saw something hazy in his vision, sure, but it wasn’t anything half as bad as what he’d figured. A laugh escaped his throat. Theo snorted, knowing that smile would vanish soon. Then, the vision hit the elf square between the eyes. A figure, towering over him, voice booming and taunting. “Íþró, Íþró, little baby boy, why don’t you fight back? Fight back, Íþró!” And all around his perception, even digging into his periphery, was the exact same visual to which he had subjected Glanni. But the figure was not Glanni; in fact, it was someone whom Íþró could never name, his worst enemy and his most feared rival, whose identity was known only to him, but in this hallucination the man never came through clearly. But Íþró knew who it was. He could feel who it was.

Tears streamed down his face, and even a few drops of blood spilled from his mouth as he lolled and gagged at something that wasn’t there. As his shrieks and cries grew louder and more frequent, the three members of the MayhemTown Gang stood over him, waiting. Switchblade dragged their knife across his Adam’s apple. Theo stood in pensive observation as he watched the elf submit to the hallucination.

As for Fenya, she turned her back to him. She hadn’t wanted to do something as extreme as this, and the crash from her bloodthirsty high left her deeply guilty. But when she dared to look back at him again, she remembered the awful things he’d said. _Eye for an eye,_ she reasoned, though her stomach turned. His existence was the opposite of hers, and while that normally wouldn’t faze her, Íþró posed a threat, especially to the only person from out of town they hadn’t scared away with their mischief and thievery. This was extreme, even for them. But even as Íþró begged for release, for someone to get him out of there, the vision continued.

Theo could hear the figure in the hallucination mock Íþró in exactly the same way as the awful sports elf had mocked Glanni. Theo looked at Fenya and murmured, “I think he’s learned his lesson.”

She stared Íþró in his eyes, which shone with hot tears of shame and darted back and forth for some escape.

“Not yet.”

With a swift kick to the stomach, Fenya had knocked Íþró onto his back. As the last traces and echoes of the hallucination vanished from his vision, his vision was instead filled with the image of the leader of the MayhemTown gang towered over him. Before he could so much as twitch, her foot pressed against his sternum. “Don’t,” he begged breathlessly, but she pressed down and he cried out in pain, even though nothing broke. 

“Mercy is for those who most deserve it. You haven’t earned that. And you never will.”

Exhausted, his chest buckling and quivering beneath the pressure, Íþró’s eyes fluttered closed and he breathed as if put into a coma, induced by the awful images he’d just seen. Switchblade, seeing the glow on Fenya’s ears die down, carved a word into the unconscious elf’s left forearm. “Rapist.” She breathed with great intention, trying to steady the rage still electrifying her entire body, and she forced herself to speak.

“We need to get Glanni out of here,” was all she could say before her body dissolved into shaking and her chest expanded and contracted rapidly, her vision blurring to near blackness, and her brain erupted from her body. Theo took her hand and pressed his fingertips gently into her palm. A soft yellow glow radiated from their hands and Fenya found her mind return to its home again. Her eyelids slid shut as her breathing steadied. Switchblade wrapped their arms around her torso, placing their head on her free shoulder. “I saw Stepdad again, when I heard him talk. I couldn’t…” Fenya stopped herself from saying any more.

“We know,” Switchblade murmured. They squeezed her gently. “You’re okay.”

Fenya’s eyes opened again, clear but fearful. “I’m scared to see what Glanni looks like. Theo?”

“He’s still awake, but barely hanging on,” he reported with a small, serious nod.

“Dying?”

“No, but if we don't get to him, he'll collapse." 

“Let’s put him in our treehouse. Even if Sportafuck wakes up, he won’t get to Glanni there.”

“If he does?” Switchblade dared to ask. A hard look silenced them immediately.

“Come on,” Fenya roused herself, her body still singing with the aftereffects of rage.

They rounded the corner to find Glanni Glæpur on his knees, tied to a dumpster, his face covered in dried semen and saliva, with a puddle of half-dried bile beneath him. Fenya knelt down, turning her palms towards him as a non-threatening gesture. “Glanni,” she spoke softly, with more gentleness than either Switchblade or Theo had ever heard her use. The addressed cried out in fear and, having nowhere to escape, covered his dirtied face with his reddened hands. Between his fingers fell hot, heavy tears. “We’re going to take you home.” Switchblade stepped behind him and sliced what appeared to be a belt from around Glanni’s wrists.

“Fenya,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and almost incomprehensible. “He...he just…”

“Shh,” she knew she was acting motherly and part of her cringed, but she took the taller man into her arms and cradled him. “We’re going to take you somewhere safe.”

“What about Íþró?”

Fenya, Theo, and Switchblade exchanged a look. Switchblade reported: “He’s not coming after you again. Not after what we did.” Fenya felt Glanni sniffle and cling to her tightly. She slowly got to her feet, taking him with her. A little voice inside her teased, He’s clingy! He’s perfect for you! She clenched a fist and shut the voice up. She shot an accusatory glance at Theo, who tilted his head in confusion.

“Come on, Glanni. I think we all need a nap,” Fenya nodded to the other two. Switchblade led the way and Theo followed as Fenya trailed behind with her longtime crime-friend practically suctioned to her side. “We’ll get you something clean to wear. God, Glanni, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know he would do something like that.”

He sniffled. “‘s not your fault, Fen. You weren’t there.” He leaned on her and let her lead him out of the alley towards a makeshift house that sat at the top of an unwired telephone pole. A black plastic ladder led up into the base of the house. Patiently, Switchblade and Theo stood on either side of the ladder. Fenya took the initiative and started up the ladder, leading Glanni up with her, and the four of them emerged into the treehouse. Through the tiny little window facing east, the tops of the cold, gray buildings hid most of the brilliance of the rising orange sun.

Glanni collapsed immediately onto a bed which he could only guess was Fenya’s (it _was_ purple, after all), and he watched her as she spoke, just low enough for him to not understand, to her fellow criminals. The two of them nodded, having received brief instructions, and Switchblade disappeared down the ladder again while Theo sat across the room, by the east window. “I don’t feel good,” he murmured. The last thing he remembered was a warm, dry hand on his own, and a soft yellow glow coaxing him to sleep, and he let it wash over him. He was safe again, with the ones who loved him. 

**Author's Note:**

> jesus christ just let glanni glæpur be happy you dirty fuckers. rape is not cool. i've known too many people who've experienced that for that to be okay.


End file.
